The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-03-06

affections which she bad thrown away, and to
that daughter. for whose love she yearned,
she must remain a stranger. Her fatal beauty,
her ill-gotten wealth, her accomplishments, her
position-all spurious treacherous-the seduc-
tive glitter of living lie-recoiled from the
honesty OF their simple poverty. The very
innocence Of their ignorance protected them.
As she realized the futility of her efforts her
heart sank within her. The longing that had
brought her two thousand miles to repair the
past was merged in a greater pain than any
that had yet come to her. But the pride she
had long nursed came to her assistance now.
She resolved to show her weakness no moro,
where humility invoked only reproach Her
gaze grew cold and collected and she withdrew
step as she said indifferently:
well. sir you doubtless know what is best
for yourself and-our child. feel that have
no right to insist on anything that is repugnant
to you. Believe one thing, though; it was not
for myself alone that have offered you wealth
and ease, but her lip would CULVER though she
bit it fercely, cit was to make amends to yon
| for the sake of her."
| She pointed to little Ann. Jim became en-
| barrassed, though he knew not why. While he
/ stood fumbling at his hat. the lady, with a sud
| den movement, kissed the child and as Jim was
| about to speak. said hurriedy
'Say no more. cannot bear it. Leave me.
If you ever in trouble and need money
| for her-here is address where you can
| always obtain it while l have it. Go-now
/ please
| She pointed rather imperiously towards the
! door Jim hesitated, cleared his throat, spit
| recklessly on the carpet-then took AIMS hand,
/ saying:
| LESS go, honey. She air right. Hit air the
best all round, I reckon" Thep to his wife:
| Don't think as l amt pestered about We. or
that we 'uns wishes you any harm. But | jist
| CANT hope dom what believe ter be right
| list CANT hope it. Goodbye. 6rthuly."
| 1t was the first time he had called her by
name She almost broke down, and motoned
for them to 60, which they did, Jim leading lit
tie Ann, who still looked back Incompetence
! ingly.
AS the door closed behind them, the wretched
wife and mother stood. like one in trance,
until the shambling echo of their footsteps
had ceased to sound along the piazza; then,
| with long, tremulous moan, she sank to the
floor and buried her face in her arms upon the
| SOFA There were no sobs, no tears-only low
means that finally subsidized into silence.
| In an hour came the summons to dinner. She
| rose. dressed herself with care, and glided into
the great dining hall, vision of cold superb
and Indifferent loneliness. By the next after
said back to Pueblo others to the White Sui
pher Springs, Others to this place or that. No
one seemed to know, and soon no one cared
| Meanwhile Jim trudged home beside his
steers, with little Ann coied up in the hay at
the bottom of the wagon.
| Pap" said she, after an hour or Of silence,
pap, who is that thar fine ladyl l jist know
haven't got nary mother, hev ], pap"
Jim flicked his goad gently the nigh
steers horns before he replied refectively:
| oval, no, L RELY can't pntedly Jest say as
you hev. honey-and yet"
Jim hestated. and Ann again asked:
Wal, pap. who is she. after all2"
burned if can tell ye, child"
And he never did.